Their Winged Angel
by MiszE506
Summary: Pfc. Eleanor 'Doc' Durand trudges through World War II with her brothers in arms after volunteering for the Army's experimental project.   Proud to say, first of its fanfics. Rating to change to M soon ;
1. The Beginning to an End

**June 9, 1944**  
**West of St. Come du Mont  
**

_Allen-n-Garnett..._

It's become a habit to say their names as if it was one, sort of like peanut butter and jelly. They just went together so well that you couldn't have one without the other. Those two were always with each other, no matter where they were.

Hell, they managed to fucking _die together_. God Almighty, how did they do that…?

I could only stare at my sergeant as he went to talk with Leggett, letting my thoughts cloud my mind and anger fill up inside of me. My eyes wandered off to the lifeless body of Allen. I couldn't bear to look at Garnett – I didn't want to. All I wanted to do was shoot Leggett.

_Go on, Ellie. Your rifle's right where it's suppose to be – in your hands. And Leggett… Leggett's right in front of you. Go on._

I began to raise my rifle when Sergeant Baker walked past Red and me. "He didn't see anything," was all he said. I felt a hand on my shoulder, one with a ring on its finger. I stared on and did nothing. Red was always there for me, and I admired him for that. But nothing, not even one of his small gestures, could comfort me at a time like this.

I slowly lowered myself to the ground and hugged my knees. A slight teardrop fell down my cheek but that was it. I mean, I could barely breathe and I felt like throwing up my heart but a teardrop was all that I feared for anyone to see. I stayed like that for a good ten minutes, thinking…arguing…

A hand appeared in front of me. Good ol' Red's back for another round, but this time I take his hand. We walk away, and I take a last look at the scene: Leggett still on the ground, my two best friends dead, and everyone else just as confused as I was.


	2. Doc Durand

(Update: 1/31/11 - added a bit of background on Allen and Garnett. Also, best to read in 3/4)  
(Update: 2/2/11 - replaced Larson with actually company captain's name, Dolgener)

**September 11, 1942  
Fort Bragg, North Carolina**

"Larry James Allen, what're you doing with that?"

Fort Bragg's mess hall smelled of sausages and eggs. While Garnett and I ate the delicious goodness that the cooks were able to brew up on short rations, Allen came back with only a donut. Taking his seat across from us, he made a face; he always hated when I used his full name. 'Makes you sound too much like my mother,' he'd said to me before.

"Well, Ellie, Desola over there's got a bet going on that I can't fit it all in my mouth in one single try," he chided. Larry Allen would've been starting his first year of college; instead he joined the Airborne, with the permission of his father. His mother knew nothing about it, nor did his girlfriend that he'd been bragging about. He stood 5 feet 8 inches, a few inches taller than me and a few inches shorter than Garnett. As the youngest of the three of us, he still had a bit of a baby face and I considered him like a little brother.

"How much?" I asked. He replied with 6 dollars. Garnett and I looked at each other with uncertainty as Allen stood on his chair and announced to the entire mess hall what he was about to do. Now, I had to give it to him - the donuts at Fort Bragg were the size of a hockey puck, but just as hard as one. Everyone howled as his mouth slowly grew bigger and devoured the donut.

"I wonder what else you can fit in there," Garnett commented loudly with a snicker. A few others chuckled without Allen noticing the sexual innuendo. I only shook my head and continued eating my breakfast, looking forward to the conversation to follow.

"Hey, y'know, I'd be jealous too if I couldn't fit a donut into my mouth," Allen said in reply.

"But why would I want to in the first place?" the other half asked.

"Cause it's 'skill' and you obviously don't have it."

"It's called having a _brain_, Allen, and _you_ obviously don't have one."

He patted Allen on the shoulder from across the table. Michael Jeff Garnett was the oldest, just a year older than me. He was just as witty and sly as Allen but kept a lot of things to himself, never mentioned his family or anything. The only thing he really brought up was how he spent his summers during college away from his hometown Paintsville in Paducah, Kentucky as a dock worker on the Ohio River.

The two smiled at each other. Anything said by either one of them could easily be understood by the other. They could never get mad at each other no matter how hard they tried. I looked over to Desola, his seat empty. The only ones occupying his table were Red Hartsock, Johnny Rivas, and Sam Corrion.

"Hey, Allen, looks like your 6 bucks got scared and ran away," I said, jerking my head at the table. Allen stood up, disappointed but quickly smiled.

"Well, damn, I guess I better hunt them down!" he yelled as he left the tent.

Garnett and I quickly finished our food. The three at Desola's table were long gone, and he was already late for PT. As for me, I wandered over to the medical tent to begin my day's work with Doc Gideon. Fox Company was short on nurses and medics so shifts were cycled: medics trained with T/3s for the four busiest days of the week, nurses assisted T/4s and T/5s for the last three. I was put on Thursday and Friday mornings to accommodate my airborne training.

* * *

The Army had gone overboard with these experimental projects. First, it was the Airborne division with men jumping out of planes. Everyone said it was outrageous, that it couldn't be done. They obviously did not expect women to willingly volunteer as Army 'combat nurses'. Someone high up in the Army must have been completely screwy to even suggest it. He believed that the combat medics could not suffice without assistants, without these nurses, and that his fellow soldiers should not be distracted from their job to help him in his. And in a crazy way, it made some sense.

After Pearl Harbor at the beginning of my senior year in college, our school had an assembly. A man and woman in khaki stood next to each other on the stage, both standing tall and rigid. The woman spoke first, discussing the many options that an average 20 something year old female student: WACs, WAVES, WASPs, USO, SPARs, American Red Cross, etc. Everyone around me whispered amongst themselves afterwards as she sat down. The man stood up next and went on about an experimental project: combat nurses of Airborne.

Of course, the girls had a good laugh over this. I remembered his stern, serious face. 'This is no joke, so I don't know why you're all laughing,' he said to them after they quieted down. His eyes directed themselves towards my way, making me feel as if he was talking to me. 'Ladies, if you're not as willing to risk your lives as your male counterparts, by all means, go join whatever Miss - mentioned. But for you gals who've got nothing to lose, I'll be glad to have you by my men's sides.'

That day I went to the recruiting center. My dad, my only parent he didn't know about what I did, nor did he care. He was more concerned about my brother, Antony, and how he failed the Army's physical test. I thought to myself, _Hmph. I should be good with four years of nursing, and I'm in my best physical shape, too. This'll be no problem._ Apparently, the requirements of a combat nurse were lower than that of a medic, and I wasn't expected to keep up with the others in basic training. 'As long as you can run the hell away from a Kraut _and_ get to a wounded soldier on time, you'll be fine.'

It was decided, and he assigned me to 3rd platoon of Fox Company of the 502nd Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division at Fort Bragg. Mouthful, isn't it? I met Larry Allen and Michael Garnett the day I arrived in June with a bunch of other combat nurse volunteers. Four of us were led by Captain Dolgener to a large field, where four platoons were seated. That's about 52 men staring at us as he introduced the new additions. There were wolf whistles and clapping among the crowd. I saw one of the nurses, a blonde, perk up and wave at them. The three of us just rolled our eyes, both at her and them.

'Combat nurses will share the title Doc, followed by their name,' Dolgener started with a loud voice. 'They are as follows: Doc Verna Moretti, 1st platoon; Doc Lisa Marie Esposito, 4th platoon; Doc Della O'Connor, 2nd platoon; and Doc Eleanor Durand, 3rd platoon.' He looked up over the clipboard. 'And men, don't even think about it. Lieutenant Colonel Cole will dishonorably discharge the both of you along with courts-martial. Any questions?'

A hand went up in the crowd, waving around like an eager schoolboy. 'Are you serious?' he asked. 'Yes, Private Allen, as serious as a heart attack.' Allen muttered to himself and the person next to him, and then his was thrown up in the air as well. 'Sir, can I challenge one of them to the obstacle course? Cause this is just too ridiculous.'

I was already tired of the questions, and the last bit ticked me off, so I spoke up before Larson could get a word in. 'Mister, we're not expected to be as good as you but I gladly accept your challenge.' There were ooh's and ahh's as Larson agreed to it, I guess, for fun. The obstacle course consisted of a high wall, a few hurdles and balance logs, a large ditch to swing over, pipes to crawl through, and finally barbed wire to crawl under. Being more agile than the man, I jolted over the wall and hurdles with ease. We didn't get to the pipes because I may have pushed him into the mud face-first.

'That's not fair!' he yelled with a mouth full of dirt. I stood victoriously on the other side while everyone laughed. Allen came in to help him up, patting him on the shoulder. I jumped in to shake his hand but instead he grabbed my whole body and fell back down with me. I couldn't help but laugh along. After we cleaned ourselves up, we formally introduced ourselves to each other and the three of us have been friends since then.

* * *

"Gaah, Ellie! Little help over here! He's too fat for me!"

Doc Gideon had disappeared off somewhere, leaving me by myself with two soldiers taking a nap. Allen just walked in, supporting Garnett who was pretty much limp. I walked over and put an arm under his to balance the weight, then led him over to a cot.

"Lieutenant Jackson's such an asshole," Allen said as he lowered his voice. "Garnett just strolled right into the formation just a few minutes late so Jackson made him run four miles instead of two. In full gear! By himself!"

I shushed him and gestured to the two soldiers. He nodded and moved toward the tent's entrance to avoid bothering anyone anymore. I started moving Garnett's feet and ankles in circular motions, but could see nothing wrong. "What're you doing?" Garnett asked annoyed. I took a quick look at Allen, who only shrugged. "Well, Allen brought you here," I told him, "and since you ran double your usual, I thought your feet or ankle or something would be hurt."

Garnett shook his head and laughed quietly. "Nothing hurts, I'm just fucking tired. I faked fainting just to get Jackson off'a my ass."

"Well, for one thing that fainting looked pretty real to me," Allen commented. Our tired friend could only give him a half-hearted middle finger. "But hey, at least you didn't lose your weekend pass. That would've sucked."

I let Larry go while Garnett stayed the night here in the medical tent. I wrote up a note to Jackson, explaining the 'injury', and fell on the cot beside Michael. I don't know how Larry puts up with him because boy, could he snore.


	3. 3rd Platoon, Strike!

Lieutenant Jackson's a pretty nice guy once you get to know him. He doesn't like to yell to intimidate but to encourage us, and he's only really an asshole if you make him act like one i.e. show up late to PT. But don't worry, I helped Garnett get into the habit of eating a fast breakfast.

September turned into October, and the days became chillier. 3rd platoon fell into formation at 0600 on the airfield where Jackson pointed out any mistakes in our clothing or weapons, and reprimanded anyone with latrine duty. We continued with stretching and cardio, and me up front beside him. He'd told me, 'You're the medic, you know how to do this best' but I always thought of it as a punishment for the platoon. My breasts may not be the best size but they still do the same distracting as any others, and when men have gone so long without seeing their girlfriends, they tend to take any chance they have to gawk at them.

"McCreary! Eyes up, not on Durand!" Jackson shouted when he caught the youngest in our platoon staring at me. Jumping jacks or running in place showed me no mercy, though it was fun to see everyone get yelled at for staring. The older men, particularly Red, were hardly ever scolded because they thought of me as a daughter and that would be plenty awkward.

"Hey, Lieu…ten…ant!" Garnett panted between jumping. When we finished the exercise, he continued. "May I…comment on something?" Jackson nodded. "May I say" – he formed a toothy grin – "… that Ellie is putting on a very nice show for us?"

I felt myself blush as Garnett received slaps on the head and arms from the boys next to him. "All right everyone, running formation!" Jackson yelled, interrupting the commotion. The three squads rushed into rows of four as our lieutenant took his spot up front. I ran in between Allen and Garnett at the far back of 3rd squad along with Desola. The 45 minute morning run around Smith Lake was always refreshing despite being able to see our breaths. The rising sun provided warmth on our bodies as well as a beautiful view of Fort Bragg on the other side. We trailed into the backwoods where the smooth path became sprinkled with rocks of various sizes. Some were barely felt; others managed to piss the hell out of everyone, even through our solid boots.

The run ended back at the airfield where we hydrated. I always found it funny that Jackson never called it drinking; it was always hydrate. At his command we unscrewed our canteens and poured all of its content into our mouths, then held it upside down to show that it was empty. He scanned each row and dismissed us after he was satisfied. Garnett, Allen, Desola, and I followed everyone to the mess hall where the cooks were back to cooking powdered eggs.

Allen was given two donuts today, and accepted them with much giddiness. He attempted to eat both at the same time, resulting in me having to give him the Heimlich maneuver and waste 10 minutes of my breakfast time while Desola and Garnett enjoyed the little display. With my 20 minutes all used up, I was the only one whose plate wasn't clean as the three paratroopers dragged me back over to the airfield. Parachute packs littered the runway, left there after the morning run to practice packing and checking. Jackson had each squad line up next to each other. He spoke as he walked around, inspecting each of us.

"Every platoon's squads are going to be separated by plane, 13-15 men in a stick. There will be a man – or woman – in front of and behind you, checking your chute to make sure it'll deploy. The last guy will be checked before boarding" – he passed my squad, and patted the last man in our 'stick' – "because we just all love Private Muzza. 3rd platoon, where you are standing now is where you'll be sounding off…"

I tapped Garnett on the arm when I was done checking his pack, and grinned to reveal that I was in between him and Allen. "Come February or March," continued Jackson, "the jumps you participated in at Fort Benning better pay off when you actually jump out of the real thing."

Fort Benning was where most of us had basic training; I learned first aid and beyond, how to put on a chute, and jump and land properly. What I will always remember were the airborne towers. They were basically the parachute rides from the World's Fair in New York but without the seats. It was just as relaxing, though, floating 250 feet down to the ground.

* * *

Lunchtime came around for the platoon with Army sandwiches galore. Afterwards we went over to the backwoods of Smith Lake, where a dummy fuselage was set up. We were expected to jump out of the doors, land by collapsing our legs, and fall to the side. If it wasn't done correctly, Jackson would yell, "Private so-and-so, you've broken both your legs and a Kraut has shot you dead."

He gave us the rest of the afternoon free, an advantage to being under Lieutenant Jackson. I was walking around when I noticed Johnny Rivas sitting by his lonesome behind a couple of Army crates. He was scribbling in a little notepad as I neared him. "Rivas, right?" I asked. It occurred to me that in my entire time being in 3rd squad, I never really talked to him. He jerked, not expecting anyone to find him, and dropped his book. I picked it up and handed it over to him. "Thanks, Doc," Rivas said with a heavy Mexican accent as I took a seat on top of a crate across from him. Hesitating, he continued with what he was doing.

"What'cha got there in that book, Rivas?" I asked.

Without looking up, he replied, "I'm keeping a journal."

"Yeah? Oh, well, um, what'd you think of today?"

He smiled and showed me two pages, one with a damn good sketch of McCreary getting yelled at and the other with a recount of today, October 27.I handed it back to him, complimenting the drawing. At that moment Allen came into view behind Rivas, and stood between him and me. He seemed a little nervous when I asked what was up.

"Ellie, d'you like anyone in 3rd?" he asked. "Because, I sort of know…" He trailed off, shaking his head. Under the his breath, he said, "This is fucking stupid."

Raising an eyebrow, I leaned a little to the right to look past him and Rivas. I could see Garnett and Desola talking a few yards away, constantly smiling and looking over. "Allen, did those two send you over here?" I asked, and he nodded. I waved at them and abruptly gave them the middle finger. Allen smirked and followed me as I walked towards them and yelled a goodbye to Rivas over my shoulder. The two Michaels noticed me coming their way and darted off in the opposite direction, laughing.

The four of us raced past officers and enlisted men. Garnett and Desola split up, as did Allen and I. Allen chased Garnett around the mess tent while Desola led me to a bunch of other tents near the airfield. Panting, I slowed down to a walking pace, hollering for him; I'd lost him when he zigzagged through the damn place. When he didn't answer at all, I decided to head back and check if Allen found Garnett.

Out of nowhere someone grabbed me from behind, twirled me around, and pressed their lips against mine. I would've kicked him where the sun doesn't shine if it wasn't for the fact that it was somewhat…pleasant. With my eyes closed, I couldn't make out who it was until a good minute passed by and he let go. It was Desola who stood in front of me, a devilish grin on his face.

"Desola…" was all I could say out of annoyance, confusion, and embarrassment.

"That thing with Allen… Garnett gave him 5 bucks to ask you if you liked any of us, as more than friends," he finally admitted. "You've really got us going, Doc. So far it's only the two of us."

It was already dusk after all our antics. I shook my head at him and began to walk to the mess for dinner. He appeared by my side shortly, only making the walk more silent and awkward. I won't lie, he was handsome. Why else didn't I mind him kissing me? But there was just something about Garnett that made me like him more.

* * *

The line was surprisingly short when we entered. Allen and Garnett were already seated at our table with Red and seats for me and Desola. They were in the middle of one of Red's bar fight stories and had barely touched their food when we came over with ours. Soldiers weren't particularly religious but these two didn't mind saying grace before dinner, and neither did Red or Desola. In a way, it made us feel at home.

After dinner we showered, and just stupidly enough the showers were not separated. There were a few stalls that had curtains for the girls but nonetheless we all walked in with our skivvies, showered with our skivvies on, and dried off with our skivvies on. The boys had no problem showering with us, though some like McCreary were always trying to take a peek at us.

'Lights out' was at 2100, giving us an hour of free time. Zanovich joked with Obi about the war, Red wrote to his family, and Allen and Garnett argued with Leggett over superheroes. When 2100 rolled around, Jackson stopped by each squad's tents to say some sort of good night. Right on the dot, the bugler began to play taps to signal lights out. By then everyone was in their cots, falling asleep to the somber tune.

I was in between Allen and Garnett every day of the week except Thursdays and Fridays, but this night I had trouble sleeping. An hour or two must've passed by with my eyes shut but my mind wandering, when I heard someone shuffling through the tent. Usually everybody's too tired to even get up to go to the bathroom. Though it was strange, I decided that this person couldn't sleep either and got up from my cot to follow him outside.

The best thing about North Carolina was the night sky. The stars twinkled alongside the moon, shining in all its glory. New York could never compare, not even upstate. It all just felt magical.

The person I went after sat right outside of the entrance. In the moonlight I recognized him as Garnett. I furrowed my eyebrows as I placed myself beside him. There was nothing but silence, shivering, and the cold hard ground. It was one of those moments where you knew what the other was thinking about but you didn't want to confront it or anything, just left it alone.

He placed an arm around me. Without breaking his stare at nothing, he said to me, "Ellie, you know you're my best friend. Whatever you do, I'll be happy as long as you're happy doing it."

With that, Garnett patted me on the shoulder and went back inside. I stayed awake for a few more minutes, just thinking and freezing. Michael Jeff Garnett…


End file.
